


Emotional Spectrum of Yellow

by Innocentfighter



Series: Rebirth Remix [3]
Category: Green Lantern (Comics), Green Lantern - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Coping, Depression, M/M, Nightmares, Other characters mentioned - Freeform, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, all of this is kind of implied, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 19:02:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11789457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Innocentfighter/pseuds/Innocentfighter
Summary: Hal doesn't cope well with his return to life.





	Emotional Spectrum of Yellow

**Author's Note:**

> If I ever have a consistent writing style I'll be impressed. So, like I said in the tags, this is all kind of implied things with Hal trying to deal with coming back to life. Which isn't going too well, the next part of this is going to be of course Darkest Day I think, unless I come up with a better idea that I need to expand on or someone asks a good enough question. Either way, enjoy!

Logically he knew that Barry had a vague idea of how to handle someone who's undergone a traumatic event, but he couldn’t help but think that he’s a bother. He’d been himself, closer to himself, in the hours after his revival than he’d been before he died. Hal may have deluded himself into thinking that this part was going to be glossed over and he could go back and make things better. That he could move on from his failure, but as it stood he could barely get off of the couch for food. Even then that was an insurmountable challenge, the kitchen was so far away and then he’d have to make the food.

If it wasn’t for Barry he was pretty sure that he wouldn’t have eaten, and just wasted away. Which, would be a more productive use of his time than taking up oxygen in a house that wasn’t even his. Barry shouldn’t have to deal with, the speedster had a second chance at life. Hal? His second chance would be spent trying to battle his sins.

About four weeks after his revival his dreams moved from comforting darkness to flashes of yellow and green. Unearthly voices echoed in his head fighting between redemption, vengeance, and fear. The more peaceful nights were all of his friends condemning him for allowing himself to be possessed. He could handle that, they weren’t saying anything he wasn’t saying to himself. The worst of the nights were when he came back, but Barry hadn’t. Those nights ended with him shooting up in bed and gripping his heart, ordering his ring to scan for any life forms in the house. 

He vomited every time the ring chirped the affirmative. The ring shouldn’t feel so right on his finger like it was missing not when yellow buzzed around his head and filled his vision. The Corp had fallen by his hand, John and Guy and Kyle and Kilowog shouldn’t have welcomed him back into their brotherhood so quickly. Hal Jordan was born to be a Lantern, but Hal Jordan had died.

Even when he wasn’t gripped in numbness or a nightmare he remembered how he died. The others, he thought, were lucky enough to be spared that. He remembered the second that the sun finally reignited, it was milliseconds probably faster than even the Flashs could see, but the feeling of being crushed and burned was engraved in his mind. Hal figured it was Parallax’s last revenge, the entity could survive something like that, but couldn’t escape the gravity and so it let Hal remember his death in painstaking detail.

Those days he had when he was the only one left in the house when he could feel the yellow closing in and it tinted everything. When Barry was gone, he fell apart. Once, Oliver had called him, the name lit up on the LED screen putting a green glow into the room and Hal had reached for it, to try and answer it because _someone wants to talk to me_ and it was Oliver which meant _he might not hate me as much as everyone else_. Only when his hand wrapped around the cell phone his mind went back to the sear of an arrow shoving through his chest and sinking into his heart. He remembered staring into the whites of Oliver’s domino mask. The cell phone had cracked under his grip or it had broken when he flung it against the wall in panic.

Barry had found him that day and wrapped around him hushing him and telling him everything would be alright. Hal hadn’t believed him because nothing was going to be alright. He was a dead man living on borrowed time in a world in which everyone had hated him.That’s when others tried to pull away from Barry, but the speedster held fast. Hal might’ve cried, he couldn’t remember and he was too drained to care if he had.

It was a couple of months after that when he moved back into Barry’s bed. Months of not being a hero or a Green Lantern. The world was still turning, but for once it seemed to consider his needs. But he wanted to be out there. Hal wanted to beat villains bruised and bloody so that he could feel the ache in his muscles and be too exhausted to dream. The last time that he’d gotten more than four hours of sleep was during a time that he could barely remember.

Barry had eventually noticed the nightmares. It was too obvious not to, the bloodshot eyes and purple bags gave it away but even if they hadn’t the bed was shared between them and one night Hal’s luck would run out and Barry would wake up when he did and he’d see the bloody scratches Hal left when it was Oliver’s arrow in his chest, or he’d see how quickly Hal stood up and undressed just to _cool down_ after he’d been in the middle of the sun, or he’d see how after his friends told him what they thought he would sit with quiet acceptance until his muscles twitched from being stationary for too long, or worse yet Barry would wake up to the green of the ring and the sounds of vomit as Hal once again used it.

It was the night of the arrow when Barry finally woke up with him. Seconds of inaction passed, which told Hal how surprised the speedster was, and then Barry was dabbing a cloth on his chest. There was a sting to it, so that meant it had hydrogen peroxide on it or maybe it was a mix of the air and water. He didn’t know.

“Hal,” Barry began, and it was soft and if it was any louder Hal would think that it was out of place in the deathly silence. He tilted his head, the house had been quiet for a long time. _He_ had been in the silence for a long time.

“You have to tell me what’s going on. You’re worrying me. I tried giving you space, let you work through it, but I don’t think you are. I can’t even tell how you’re feeling.” Barry was rambling, “I know I was terrified when I came back and realized everything was different.”

For a long time, he didn’t say anything. Half a dozen sentences formed in his head about what he could say, but none made it to his lips. But Barry was expecting something so he settled on the least damning, “I don’t even know what I’m feeling, I’m not feeling anything.”

The word danced around the back of his head, but it was yellow and tunneling its way through his head and it made a buzzing sound. He could feel its hold tangling around his heart and head again and he felt his lungs speed up. But, he kept his eyes focused on Barry’s unearthly blues, _hope hope hope._ It fought to rise to the forefront of his mind, wood battering against metal doors. The doors were only denting, not giving.   
“Hal, jesus,” Barry murmured, “you’re afraid.”

The battering stopped and yellow clouded his vision, Hal willed it away, soft green pushing at it. Nearly being overwhelmed. Words felt ash on his tongue, “I’m a Green Lantern, we’re not allowed to be afraid.”

It was his identity. He couldn’t lose it again. Once was too much. Once cost him everything, his soul. Fear was nothing to him now, just yellow and buzzing and laying eggs in the back of his head. A flash in the battery, surrounded by green. Smothering the flame.

Barry huffed, it was heavy and exhausted. Hal wanted to apologize, but he wasn’t sure where he should start, or if an apology could even seal this. Hadn’t he already done that? It wouldn’t absolve him of his sins.

Barry was speaking again and Hal turned and narrowed his focus, the buzzing silenced for now and _hope hope hope_ shone brightly in those eyes. It gave him strength for now. Even stronger arms wrapped around him, “alright, fine. But you’re allowed to not be okay.”

He tilted his head. Confusion filled his head, he had never said that he was okay. Barry was still talking and for now the sea in his head had calmed, forces that he knew were gone from it stopped fighting.

“You’re allowed to not be Hal Jordan right away. You’re allowed to scream and cry and throw things. Get angry! Do what you have to.”

Hal felt something stutter in his chest, which was odd because these days when he felt something in his chest it was an arrow.

“Just stop acting like you’ll wake up someday suddenly okay!” Barry wasn’t yelling, just talking and holding him, but in the silence it was loud, “you won’t. I know you won’t.”

It was judgement signed and sealed. Hal pulled away from Barry, to look. He wouldn’t try to read the face, he didn’t know how to feel the right way anymore. So long he’d been pulled in so many ways, the things that he felt he wasn't sure if it was him or it was the others. He’d stopped feeling, that was his one certainty.

All his thoughts stopped once he saw Barry. There were tears glimmering in the light of the alarm clock. Brows pulled together, body tense. At one time, he’d be able to know what it meant, now he felt like he was reading a language that hasn’t been created.

“I feel like I’m losing you. You’re scaring me.”

Those words managed to drown out the last of the buzzing and _hope hope hope_ ceased. They were strung together, but the order felt wrong a yellow bead in the middle of a string of baby blue ones. Hal shook his head, and in a voice that was his (not tinny and not unearthly and not shaky or quiet) he spoke. It was slow.

“You won’t lose me.” That he was certain of, the first thing he’s been certain of in years maybe, “I’m just not good at asking for help.”  
The last words tumbled out of his mouth and yellow ebbed back to a glow and blue busted through the metal doors to reignite green. In the morning everything would be the same, doors sealed. Yellow strong. Green and blue separated.

“The last time I did,” his voice picks up speed and strength like he was getting close to a source of gravity. He stops.

“Last time? What happened last time?”

Barry is looking at him like this is a breakthrough, like they were slipping down the hill towards the finish line, when they only had a taller one to climb. Hal shook his head. _Right now. Right here_. He could do that.

“Nothing.” He said plainly.

He’d forgotten about those wounds, but now they were like old aches. Probing at his joints, settling over his heart where it felt like it now had to work three times as hard. A damning weight. He knew what it meant, but he focused back on Barry. If he could make it one minute longer he last one more. Simple math, the minutes would add up to hours to days to months to years, slowly.

“Hal,” the word was delivered sharp but clipped, “something did happen.”

They weren’t on the same wavelength like they had been. He knew that so, he switched his answer to one that was clearer, “nothing happened.”

Barry was a genius and picked up on his meaning, “they didn’t help?”

Hal nodded, his voice failing him. Barry looked like a live wire that was frayed, sparking at the edges. It’d been a long time since Hal had seen the lightning and he wanted to take it all in. At least one more time.

They laid back down, and Hal was greeted with familiar darkness. For once everything was back to the silence he liked, not the one where externally it was silent but his head was anything but. Barry wrapped around him, and unnatural heat, but Hal pushed the thought aside in order to maybe sleep. _Rest_.

When morning came it was a surprise. Hal was alone in the bed, but he was rested. He sat up and rubbed at his eyes and looked down at his chest. In the dim light, he could make out the scar from an arrowhead, barely due to the crisscross of fingernail marks. The newest of which stood out red against the pale skin, but they were already scabbing over. He ignored them to look at the ring that was sitting on his finger idly. His stomach still churned at the fact he was wearing it, that he was allowed to wear it.

Part of him wanted to push himself, wander down to the couch in the living room, but the rest of him wanted to stay in the bed that was safe for the time being. Maybe later in the day he’d get up and look at things, making a light meal. For now, this was enough, the voices were ignorable and green was wrapping its way around him once more.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I think I got my point across as far as I want to, let me know if there's any glaring errors! Hopefully you enjoyed this one. Personally I like this one a lot because of what it's implying and I'll delve deeper into it on my next installation of the series. For now this is good! As always, leave your thoughts in the comments below!


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